


Big Brother Wilby

by ghostlypastries



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Child Abuse, Claustrophobia, Crying, DadSchlatt, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Death, Depression, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fear of Death, I REGRET NOTHING, Insane Wilbur Soot, No Smut, Respawning, Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, you know they suffer though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:33:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27846938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostlypastries/pseuds/ghostlypastries
Summary: haha this is very old :D
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 33
Kudos: 399





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> haha this is very old :D

There was something wrong with Wilbur Soot.

The thought flew through Tommy's head while he stared at his beloved older brother with wide eyes as Wilbur approached him steadily, a maniacal grin spread across his face. 

"We lost L'Manburg." Tommy knew, how could he ever forget the looks in the eyes of the people he once cared about the most as the arrows started firing? How would he ever move past the loud boom of the microphone, the ringing in his ears as he stared the man who had taken everything from him in just a day, the man who grinned at the fear on his face?

No, Tommy could never forget. The scenes played over and over in his mind as Wilbur placed a strong, warm hand on his shoulder. His vision was started to cloud over, and the last thing he recalss seeing were once warm brown eyes.

He couldn't identify the look in them now.

There was something wrong with Wilbur Soot.

Tommy's mind whispered at him, as he watched Wilbur and Niki from the stairs. She looked upset, and he looked mad. Very, very mad. Their heated voices reached his ears as he sat on a step, unsure of what to do.

"This isn't safe, Wilbur! You can't just destroy our home!"

"Pogtopia is your home now, or did you forget?! What, you'd really like to live in a nation led by Schlatt?!"

"It's _our_ nation, not his! This is reckless, and too many people will get hurt!"

"What does it matter, Niki? They're all expendable! They're all traitors, every last one of them!"

Niki sighed aggravatedly, and Tommy's eyes widened at her words.

"You've lost it, Wilbur."

And if Wilbur had lost his temper at that, if Niki now had a nasty, purpling bruise on her cheek, if the look in her lovely eyes would haunt his nightmares forever, Tommy would mention none of it.

There's something wrong with Wilbur Soot.

Niki whispered those words into his ear, hugging him tightly, and then she was gone. Slowly but surely, they were all leaving, all returning to Manburg. And as he stood dutifully by his brother's side, he watched as his only other family walked away from him. From them, and everything they were.

Wilbur's fist met the wall with a resounding whack. Tommy jumped at that, head turning quickly to the musician, who's face was unreadable. For a moment, it was silent. Tommy's shaky breaths and the dripping of water in the dirty cave was all there was.

And then Wilbur was in his face, and he was mad. Tommy was against the wall.

"Are you going to fucking leave, too?! Going to betray me, everything you have?!" His words were laced with some sort of loathing, some despise Tommy never thought Wilbur could feel towards him. He shook like a leaf, his crystal eyes wide and hands trembling.

"N-no, of course not Wilbur!" The sounds hit Tommy before the pain did, a horrid smacking noise that made him sicker than the actual pain of it. He brought his hand up to his face, and furiously blinked the tears out of his eyes as he stared at Wilbur. At his brother.

"I'm all you have, Tommy. All. You. Have." And with that, he was gone, leaving nothing but the dull throbbing of his cheek and the faint smell of pine behind.

Tommy fell to his knees, , and even though the gravel dug into his legs and his back scraped against the wall, he could care less.

_Certainly Wilbur wasn't right._

There was something wrong with Wilbur Soot.

The tears threatened to spill as Tommy glared with as much fierceness he could muster. Wilbur was glaring, too, and a part of Tommy shrank back, just like he always did.

Tommy would not shrink back this time. Tommy had friends to protect.

"You can't blow up Manburg, Wilbur! What about Tubbo, and Fundy, and everyone?"

"They're all traitors, Tommy. They all left us! They left you behind, didn't they?" Wilbur wasn't yelling. Tommy's face paled, and his courage wilted inside of him. Why wasn't Wilbur yelling?

"Th-they left because it's hard, Wilbur! Not because of us!" His brother's hand raised, and Tommy flinched, but it was placed gently on his cheek. Wilbur was touching him. Wilbur didn't look mad. A part of him subconciously leaned into his hand, as the boy was starved of affection.

"They left you, Tommy. If it were us, they'd let us die." His voice was uncharacterically soft, and he stroked Tommy's face with his thumb lightly. And he pulled him close when the tears finally did fall, when weeks of pain came spilling out.

Nobody would see the grin on his face while he shushed his baby brother, and that was exactly what Wilbur wanted.

There was something wrong with TommyInnit.

The way he mindlessly trailed after Wilbur, the way he was suddenly quiet and the way he suddenly listened. All of it was wrong. If anybody were to some within ten feet of him they'd notice the purple bruises, the red scars, the way he nervously pulled his sleeves down every few minutes.

But nobody ever came close enough to notice.


	2. Chapter 2

Something was wrong with his best friend.

Every friday afternoon Tubbo and Tommy met in a small clearing in the woods, just to sit and talk with each other as they once were able to do freely. And every friday Tubbo would stare at a new scar or bruise on his best friends face, who would always laugh and say something about fighting.

"You should see the other guy," Tommy says.

Tubbo isn't convinced the 'other guy' looks worse than his friend.

However, Tubbo says nothing. The two will sit on a ratty old blanket his friend carried from Pogtopia, and they'll talk and laugh and act as if nothing is wrong. Like all is right in the world.

Soon enough, the shine in Tommy's eyes starts to turn almost milky. He's always in a haze, it's almost like he isn't really there with Tubbo, but far away in the lands of his own mind.

At first Tubbo thinks that his younger friend's imagination is getting the best of him.

By the third friday he isn't so certain.

Still, Tommy is Tommy. He's loud, and brave, and loyal. He's funny, too, of course. His awful jokes and ridiculous bits always leave Tubbo practically wheezing, and Tommy will always join in. They'll stay there together on that blanket until late in the evening, staring at clouds and stars and both wishing for so many different things.

Tubbo wishes for his friend to be alright.

Tommy wishes that Wilbur won't have noticed he was gone.

Something was wrong with his best friend.

He had shown up late that friday, a swelling bruise under his right eye and a bloody lip. His blonde hair was a tangled, dirty mess, and he was wearing the longest sleeves he could find in summer.

When Tubbo asked about it, his friend tried to brush him off again. Tommy laughed, (and some part of Tubbo couldn't help but notice that it had once sounded much more joyous and loud), and tried to steer the conversation.

Tubbo was not having it.

"Tommy, who did that to you?"

"What do you mean, Tubbo? I just got into another deadly battle, you know-"

"With who then, Tommy? Who are you fighting?"

Tommy didn't have an answer to that. 

The taller tried to leave, but Tubbo gripped his arm. Tommy let out a soft cry, and quickly tried to bat Tubbo's hand away.

Something warm and wet touched his palm. The boy reeled his hand back, staring as Tommy took the chance to run.

He looked down.

His hand was bloody.

Tubbo returned the next friday early. He needed to help his friend.

Tommy didn't show up today.

Tommy didn't show up today, either. Maybe he was sick.

Tommy wasn't there today. Tubbo waited until midnight before finally giving up and returning home.

Tommy was a no show, again. Schlatt was starting to worry about Tubbo staying out so late.

This time, there was a note on top of their ratty old blanket. Tubbo picked it up.

_Stop coming here._

He was tired. If Tommy said he was alright, then surely he had to be. Tubbo gave up.

Tubbo went home.

Tubbo didn't show up today.

Something was wrong with him.

Tommy knew this, as he stared at the blanket, stared at the last connection he had to anybody else. Stared at his arm, covered in gorgeous scars that criss-crossed against his skin, an angry red against the pale white. He knew this as he fell to his knees on the cold forest floor, as he cried.

Tommy knew that now, now everyone had truly left him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you sm for the support on the last chapter! you guys are amazing, i love you sm <33


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's so short this time, i have a lot of schoolwork today and i woke up late ^^; the next chapter will be extra long to make up for it!

Tommy waited, every friday, for Tubbo to come back.

Sometimes he'd bring little gifts for him and end up leaving them there, like flowers or freshly baked bread. He would sit on his old blue blanket for hours, wishing on the stars.

Tubbo was never going to come back. Tommy knew this, and Wilbur did too.

The gifts were always gone by the morning, but there was never any sign that someone else had been there. Sometimes Tommy wondered where they would go, since nobody but him and Tubbo knew of their little blanket in the woods.

Tommy supposes it's just his blanket, now. The thought saddens him a bit, almost as much as the lonely bees that Tubbo once cared for.

Tubbo used to care for Tommy, too.

The sound of a twig cracking behind him snaps him out of his thoughts, and he turns quickly to meet the sight of his big brother, who quirked a brow at him.

"And what is this, Tommy?" The boy stumbled to defend himself. Wilbur didn't sound angry, not yet, but he would be pissed if he found out Tommy had been meeting with Tubbo.

"It's just... a blanket I put on the ground. What else?" While it sounds weak, and he cringed at the tremble in his own voice, Tommy knew it wasn't a lie, and he was going to stick with it. No matter what Wilbur did.

Tommy didn't believe himself.

"That's extremely fucking weird, Tommy." The younger boy offered him a shrug, continuing to stare apprehensively at Wilbur's boots. When they moved, he flinched back, like the coward he was.

All the older boy did was sink beside him, however, with his legs crossed and his face resting in the palm of his hand. Tommy couldn't help but express his confusion with a slight cock of his head, and a "Huh?"

"We haven't gotten to actually hang out in a long time, Tommy. This is nice." Wilbur wasn't supposed to be here. This was his and Tubbo's spot, what if Tubbo came to see him? Wilbur would be angry, Tubbo would be confused, it would be all bad, bad, bad-

Tommy paused. This was supposed to be his and Tubbo's spot. But Tubbo wasn't the one sitting next to him, was he? He hadn't sat next to him in weeks. No, Wilbur was sitting next to him now.

Wilbur was the one who was staring up at the sky with him, who was talking with him. Not Tubbo.

Tommy didn't need Tubbo, did he? He had Wilbur. His brother. He would never admit it out loud, but Wilbur had always been his favorite person in this world. 

The brunette sighed, uprooting some colorful flowers idly with his free hand. He seemed almost bored, and it was so different from his normal angry, obsessive personality that Tommy was almost reeling.

The two sat there until nightfall, talking like he and Tubbo used to. And he wasn't sure when, but at one point Tommy felt himself relax, something he hadn't been for what seemed like years. Wilbur kept pulling out the flowers, the flowers that Tubbo worked so hard to help grow for his bees, but it didn't matter much to Tommy.

Whether it was a wasteland or a meadow, Tommy would be happy either way. He had his brother back, and he wasn't alone. All was right in the world.

And if later that night, he stepped over an unknown boundary, if his screams and cries could be heard by anything within ten miles of the area, if Wilbur's yells rattled his ears and heart, if the sickening snap of his right arm and the pain that followed afterwards made him crumple to the cold floor, unconscious, the next morning Tommy would not hang up on any of it.

After all, all he had to do was listen to Wilbur, and everything would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really appreciate all the support! i love you guys sm <33!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> school is currently beating my ass whoopee

There were times, when it was so late at night even the crickets had fallen asleep, that Wilbur would think about some of the thing he's done.

He never felt bad, he was sure of this. Wilbur knew he was in the right, it was everybody else that was wrong, wrong, wrong.

And sure, sometimes he would chase people away. Sometimes he hurt them, but it was only because they were hurting him. They were hurting _everything_. Besides, he couldn't be that terrible. After all, his baby brother still stuck to his side.

Ah, Tommy.

His sweet, naive little brother. Always so brash, so annoying, such a brat. Half of the time he couldn't even stand to look at him, choosing instead to center his eyes on a pretty purple bruise on his face.

Now that he thought about it, though, he had really liked being around Tommy recently. The boy had quited down a lot, and he was much less of a brat. 

Wilbur still had to teach him a lesson sometimes, though. Even when Tommy had done nothing wrong. It was just to get a point, _his_ point across.

That's what they both told themselves, anyways.

He loved his baby brother so, so much, though. Especially with the way he had been shaping up. At first, Wilbur had been angry, eething at the fact that Tommy still had someone else besides him.

But every attachment can be used against you.

Wilbur spent the days after he found their little spot in the woods making sure Tommy wouldn't be able to walk, much less crawl there. Of course, Tommy had no idea why he was so angry, or why he was doing this.

And of course, he waited until Tubbo grew more and more distant with each visit. The note had been what broke the boy.

And then he let Tommy leave, made sure that it had really sunk in that he was alone before trailing behind him and sitting down next to him. At first it had seemed like a chore, something he would despise or consider a waste of time, but it made him remember just how much he loved his little brother.

The way he clung to his side after accidentally falling asleep, the way they joked and laughed like all was great in the world, the way he needed Wilbur.

It was amazing. Sometimes, he would feel sick when the boy got clingy. It was off and on, and Wilbur just assumed it was the heat, or it was something Tommy had done.

Anytime he thought that, _something Tommy had done,_ it never failed to make him angry.

Sometimes, when Wilbur glanced at himself in the mirror, he didn't recognize the person that stared back at him. That never failed to make him grin. 

Tommy, at the moment, had fallen asleep curled up next to him, and it made Wilbur smile. It was so much better when the boy was sleeping, he'd never feel the sick churning in his stomach, and he'd never feel the anger that came with glancing at his traitorous little brother.

Wait a second.

When had he started thinking of Tommy as a traitor?


	5. update

hi guys, sorry for making you all wait so long! the story IS going to continue, i promise, it's just been really hectic recently! a new chapter will be posted next week, again, sorry about that wait!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, i'm finally back. so chapters are gonna take a bit longer but they'll also be a bit longer, due to school and my other stories and shit. thanks to those who stuck around, enjoy the chapter!

Tommy shot upwards with a heaving sob, taking in his surroundings with a blurred gaze. He's not sure when he fell asleep, doesn't remember feeling tired, but Tommy can't bring himself to care.

His head hurts, badly. When he reaches his hand up to gingerly touch the back of his skull, his fingers come back covered in crimson blood. The sight makes him groan weakly, and he scrambles up, ignoring the ache in his legs and instead choosing to focus on the mess he was laying in.

There's a lot of blood, mostly dry, and he's sure the fact that he actually woke up is a miracle. Memories of last night swirl around in his mind, Tommy's not even sure what he did that was so wrong, but it had to have been something. Maybe he was too loud. Maybe he was too jumpy, too hyper, too annoying.

When he sees himself in the reflection of a small puddle, the thoughts vanish. He looks awful, like a brainless zombie. There's dried blood, everywhere, blood mixed with dirt running in streaks all along his face, and his blond hair is tangled and matted, also bloody. The bags under his eyes disgust him, he looks liked a fucking raccoon. There are swelling purple bruises along his jawline, and one right under his left eye.

Tommy's disgusted with himself. He's hurt, and he's still tired, somehow, but he doesn't dare sleep. He's not sure that they'll open again once he finally closes his eyes.

He's disgusted with himself, yes, and everything hurts so much he wants to cry, but for some reason he can't fathom, Tommy is _pissed_. Angrier than he thinks he's ever been, really. Staring at the person in the water, not recognizing himself, Tommy's mad.

Tommy is fucking mad at Wilbur. He's so mad his hands are shaking, his whole body is shaking, and he can't see straight. He forces himself away from the water, stumbling to a chest he filled with bandages long ago, and the whole way, Tommy is seething.

He flings the chest open. Normally, Tommy would jump back at the loud crack as the top hit the stone wall, but right now he can't focus on his fear. He pulls out a roll of soft cloth, and wraps his head jerkily.

While he does, Tommy thinks. 

How fucking _dare_ he? How dare Wilbur treat him, Tommy fucking Innit, like he was nothing? Tommy did everything for his prick of an older brother, gave up everything for Wilbur's dream, lost everything for Wilbur, and this is his fucking payment? What the _hell_?! When he looks down at his arms and red lines stare eerily back up at him, Tommy scoffs. 

He shouldn't care. Tommy is no bitch, he shouldn't cry over this, shouldn't fucking hurt himself over Wilbur. His big brother is a fucking dick, an abusive dick, and Tommy does not give a fuck.

He punches the wall, because Tommy does care. He does, he cares so much, Wilbur is all he has left. How did that even happen? Where the hell was Tubbo, his best friend? Where was Technoblade, his brother? Where was everybody?

Why the fuck did everyone leave him?

He feels his eyes start to water, but he can't bring himself to care enough to wipe away the tears. Nobody's here, and Tommy will fucking cry if he wants to. He didn't give a fuck who could judge him in this moment, because anyone that did deserved to have their throat slit. He would do it himself.

No, he wouldn't. Tommy really doesn't want to hurt anyone.

That might just be what pisses him off the most. He's stuck, trapped in a world where children are forced into wars, a place where death is common, where families crumble, where presidents exile citizens for no goddamn reason, and where brothers beat brothers. Tommy doesn't fit in with this land of blood and war, no matter how desperately he feels he needs to.

Why does he need to? To impress Dream, the man he once called a friend, the man who shot him directly between the eyes? To make a name for himself, so that he can be like his older brothers? His older brothers who leave him, and abuse him? Yeah, he can't say he fucking cares that much.

Tubbo.

He wants to be with Tubbo. He wants to be with Wilbur, and Technoblade, and even Dream, no matter how much he hates all of them. Tommy's now digging his nails into his arms, and blood is pooling underneath his fingertips, but he can't bring himself to care. Tommy is still pissed.

But he's calming down, now. He can't be this mad when Wilbur returns, it would end terribly.

_~~For him or for Wilbur, he doesn't know.~~ _

So it's best to take those deep, shaky breaths and dig his nails in a little deeper. Tommy really doesn't want Wilbur to hurt him, and he knows he can't, he's just a stupid kid who can't do anything for himself, but in this moment all Tommy wants to do is run away.

Maybe one day.


End file.
